


The Waiting Verse

by neaf



Category: Glee RPF
Genre: Angst, Future Fic, M/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-10
Updated: 2013-04-10
Packaged: 2017-12-08 02:02:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 7,549
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/755693
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/neaf/pseuds/neaf
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What happens when the one thing you want most in the universe is the one thing you can't have.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Disintegration

Down a dirt road, out where the streetlights stopped and the stars began, they drove in darkness for over an hour before the rolling hills gave way to a sea of light. Lanterns hung on rows of wire between tree branches over uneven groups of glowing tents. Moonlight and flickering bulbs carved a path between the rows of cars, and they found a place to park on a mound of darkened dirt, churned like seawater by countless tires before theirs.   
  
As he stepped out of the car, Chris looked down over the scattered embers of the crowd, breathing the chill night air deep into his lungs. There was a hum on the breeze, beautiful and haunting, like a hundred hushed voices singing softly to themselves.  
  
His mouth fell open a little in awe, and a thrum of excitement washed over him. This was the Meadow.  
  
Darren brushed his shoulder as he passed, flashing back a giddy grin, blanket tucked neatly under an arm. Harry and Chord followed quickly carrying the tent between them, but Dianna stopped at his shoulder to rest her head there, watching the lights with the same fascination. A second car pulled up close behind, and the others gathered around them, buzzing excitedly as they made their way to where the boys had begun to pitch their tent.  
  
There was a nervousness in the air, a tremor of anticipation. None of them had been invited to the Meadow before. Until now, it was just a myth. At least, it was until Darren found it, and decided to lead this particular dizzy, dream-crazy crusade.   
  
The Meadow had been a rumor in the music industry for decades. It wasn’t any particular place, or any particular company pulling things together. For one night every three years, always somewhere new, it simply _was_. All of the industry fell away – there was no money, no ego, no paparazzi or PR. For that one night, there was simply music.   
  
He tried to breathe, tried to keep his heart from pounding out of his chest as they wandered through the maze of canvas tents and fairy lights, surrounded by familiar faces from every magazine. Oscar winners, billboard chart toppers, perfect strangers – all just _people_ , tonight. There was no fame here.   
  
The tent went up in record time with one wall open towards the stage, and blankets were laid out on the grass as the group gathered to toast to their disbelief, and the amazing evening ahead.   
  
Like a beacon in the dark, the stage lights went up and the first band made their way out with no announcements or introductions. A tall, unwashed looking man by a microphone caressed his guitar and began playing. Chris closed his eyes in bliss at the familiar tune. He would have paid to see them in concert, if he could have ever found the time. But now, the music was falling down around him like a gift, and he struggled to understand how he came to be here. What power in the universe decided he deserved this incredible thing?  
  
The others joked and laughed all around him, still dizzy with excitement and nerves as they drank and danced and swayed. The second band was just as unbelievable as the first, and by the time the third band took the stage Chris had settled on a blanket, legs folded and eyes closed to soak in the tide of sound.  
  
Mark and Naya had dragged the vast majority of their cohorts down to the stage to join in the revelry, and Ashley was climbing up to follow them when she asked if he was coming, holding out her hand.   
  
He smiled hazily, shaking his head a quiet no. “I’ll man the tent,” he said, sipping at his drink and placing it carefully on top of the icebox.  
  
“You sure?” she asked, tilting her head. “I don’t wanna leave you here on your own.”  
  
“No, no,” Chris waved at the gathering crowd down by the stage. “Go. I just want to … sit. Feel the music for a little while. This is just,” he huffed out a breath, letting his eyes widen as he leaned back on his hands, “ _amazing_.”  
  
She grinned and scrunched up her nose, fixing him with an adoring gaze. “Oh, babe, why haven’t you married me yet?”  
  
He looked at her and deadpanned. “Because my strict no-dating-co-workers policy keeps our truly fabulous love for each other from growing to Godzilla-like proportions.”  
  
She pursed her lips in agreement, eyes narrowed. “It’s true, our love would crush cities.”  
  
He nodded firmly.  
  
“Damn our horrid responsibility to preserve human lives,” she said matter-of-factly as she wandered away, and Chris laughed aloud in her wake.  
  
Time slipped away in the dark, and the fourth band took the stage. He pulled his knees up to his chest, still alone on the small island of picnic blankets, staring out the open side of their tent down to the stage. The rustling of canvas caught his attention, and he looked up in time to see Darren ducking under the side flap of the tent, grinning broadly. “Hey!”   
  
Chris smiled. “Hey.”  
  
“Can you believe this?” Darren gestured around himself manically, almost vibrating with excitement.   
  
“ _Oh_ , my god, no,” Chris breathed quietly, smiling and shaking a little himself. “It’s unbelievable, it’s … I am without belief. I’m belief-less.”  
  
Darren raised his brow, his grin splitting wider.   
  
Chris closed his eyes, laughing at himself. “I also seem to have misplaced my vocabulary, so if you see that, you know, lying around out there,” he opened his eyes and gestured to the scattered tents in front of them.   
  
“Try not to trip over it?” Darren offered, shuffling closer and kneeling beside him.  
  
“That, yes,” Chris nodded.   
  
Darren smiled at him and glanced to the stage, but his eyes shot straight back to Chris when he realized what he saw. “Are you shivering?”  
  
“Am I?” Chris looked down at his near-blue hands in amazement. “I didn’t really notice.”  
  
“Here,” Darren reached out instantly, taking Chris’s right hand flat between his own and rubbing rapidly to generate heat. Chris watched, a small smile curling the edge of his mouth, as Darren repeated the process with his other hand.  
  
After a moment, Chris shook his head in confusion. “How on earth are you so warm?”  
  
“Are you serious? I’ve been bouncing around like a beach-ball on a sea of awesomeness for the last hour and a half,” Darren said, finishing up with Chris’s left hand and shifting around behind him.  
  
“Wha- what are you doing?” Chris asked, startled as he felt Darren’s leg press against his side.  
  
“Shut up, you’re fucking freezing. Here,” he gripped Chris’s shoulders, easing him back gently.   
  
After a moment of hesitation, Chris leaned into the motion and met with Darren’s chest. Two long arms curled around his shoulders and his front protectively, and in an instant he felt his body still.  
  
“Thank you,” Chris whispered to Darren softly, catching the familiar smell of him on a shaky breath. “But don’t you have a sea of awesomeness to be getting back to?”  
  
Darren grinned. “It’s not that awesome.”  
  
“Not that- are you kidding?” Chris leant forward far enough to look back over his shoulder. “Please explain to me how it could possibly be _not that awesome_?”  
  
With a shrug, Darren tilted his head coyly. “I looked around, and you weren’t there.”  
  
Chris rolled his eyes affectionately and leaned back into the warmth behind him, feeling Darren’s arms tighten across his chest. He stretched out his legs, crossing them at the ankle, and tried not to chuckle at Darren’s truly hideous shoes now pressed either side of his knees.  
  
Slowly, over the next song, Chris felt the heat seeping into every limb of his body. There was a haze of orange light lingering over the evening, cast by the floating paper lanterns above, and Chris wondered absently how this kind of magic existed out here with most of the world completely oblivious to it.   
  
They were sitting in silence for so long, wrapped in each other and letting the music wash over them, that Chris almost didn’t notice when Darren’s arms pulled away slightly, now curled around his shoulders.   
  
A new song began, and hung in the air for an eternity before the thrum of the bass line shook the ground in soft, thrilling vibrations. The drumbeat split the night like lightning, and Chris felt it in his bones. Startled from his tranquil, hazy daydream, his body tensed. Somehow, almost imperceptibly, the entire feel of the night had changed.  
  
His heartbeat quickened as the heat from the body behind him shifted, and he knew in that split second that Darren had felt it, too. Something dark and nervous trilled inside him, caged under his ribs.  
  
The music pressed in, deep and unforgiving, and he couldn’t stop himself from turning his head to the side, catching the warm gust of Darren’s breath across his lips.   
  
His heart stopped.  
  
They lingered, silent and coiled up in stunned realization for a long and agonizing moment before Chris felt him shift again. A tiny, almost invisible motion, but Chris felt every inch of it as Darren lifted his body, fitting them snugly together.   
  
A shiver rippled down his spine, curling his toes, pushing him back just enough. The hands on his shoulders squeezed gently. He could feel the very moment Darren’s lungs stopped holding in that one seized mouthful of air.  
  
Chris tried to stay still, suddenly very aware of every inch of his body, and of a strange, lingering ache low inside of him. He managed a short, ragged breath as Darren’s hands let go, and trailed down his arms, unbearably slow, to his waist.   
  
The pounding cascade of the drums ricocheted around them, and Darren slid his hand harshly down in concert with the sound, pushing under the edge of Chris’s jeans and cupping a hipbone. Chris gasped, leaning back into the body behind him as his eyes fell closed.   
  
Darren’s face was pressed against the side of his head, eyes shut, his other hand sliding over Chris’s thigh and resting on the inseam, thumbing it gently. A tremor licked Chris’s body from the top of his spine to the curl of his toes.  
  
There was a prickly, shaking heat that settled around them as the song rolled on, intense and unwavering on the chill of the air. Chris stuttered over words in his mind, opening his eyes just enough to see Darren’s hand curled over his leg, long fingers gripping ripples into the fabric of his jeans.  
  
Slowly, Darren’s hand slid up from his hip, barely grazing skin as it pushed under his shirt and across his stomach. Chris breathed desperately through his mouth, unable to close it as his legs fell apart and his hands scrambled to grip Darren’s knees either side of him.   
  
The press of Darren’s hands on him, the tiny, barest movements of his fingers against denim and skin sent shivers to every corner of his body. Nobody had ever touched him like this before, and the clawing, searing ache pooling low in his belly was almost unbearable. His hips clenched violently, involuntarily, as Darren pressed a hot, open mouth to the underside of his jaw. Chris jolted, letting out a barely audible whimper as his hips jerked. Darren’s hand was pressing into him now, drawing him in tighter, searing like a handprint against his breastbone as his tongue swiped gently across Chris’s jaw.   
  
Chris heard a quiet, broken sound come from his own mouth, but it was washed away in the undercurrent of the song. His eyes slammed closed again as Darren breathed over the teeth-grazed, wet marks on his neck, prickling his skin into goose bumps. Chris’s arm curled under Darren’s knee, drawing it up to pull their bodies closer still.   
  
Darren shifted behind him again, a tiny, urgent thrust against Chris’s hips that made them both shudder and grip tighter, riding the weight and the vibration of the music in time with their movements. Darren watched through heavy, half-lidded eyes as Chris slid against him achingly, teasingly, begging for something more. He pressed in again, sucking skin into his mouth and rolling his tongue against it as he moved down Chris’s throat. He would leave marks, and the arm Chris had wound around the back of his neck would surely leave a red-raw graze come morning, but it didn’t matter. He could feel it, could almost taste the words in Chris’s mouth as he struggled around a letter through ragged, uneven breaths. Darren knew it was the first letter of his name.  
  
Chris felt Darren’s hand pass down his chest again, dragging slowly this time, deliberately, until it reached his jeans. He arched his back, dropping his head onto Darren’s shoulder as the tips of Darren’s fingers slid under the band, stroking at the soft skin there gently. Darren watched Chris’s face, the line of his profile, as he gasped and writhed under the attention of Darren’s hand, still only teasing lightly. He squeezed at Chris’s thigh and felt the arm that was hooked around his neck drop, bonelessly.  
  
Everything in his body told him to keep touching Chris, keep doing _this_ , because he had never wanted anything this badly in his life. He wanted to map every inch of him with his hands and his mouth, to hear Chris make those broken, beautiful noises for hours underneath him.   
  
As the song dripped away, he closed his eyes, and felt something inside him sink.   
  
Chris straightened, eyes open, as he sensed the change that rippled through them both.   
  
Darren felt hands ghost over his own, not encouraging or discouraging, just resting there like a comfort or a caress. “You know, don’t you?” Chris whispered quietly, his breathing still rough.  
  
Darren could taste the burn of frustration in the back of his throat. His body screamed and ached under Chris, but he still lifted his hand from his thigh, sliding it under Chris’s shirt with the other.   
  
“I know,” he conceded.  
  
Chris let out a sad, shuddering sigh and closed his eyes, leaning back into Darren’s chest again and pressing their heads together. “I’m sorry. I just… I can’t.”  
  
With his mouth pressed into Chris’s hair, Darren tried not to let the tears reach his eyes. “I know, I know,” he said soothingly, his palms still pressed, warm and gentle, against Chris’s skin.  
  
He couldn’t see his face, but he could feel Chris’s tremble, the telling lift of his chin. Chris snuffled softly, barely a noise at all, but Darren still pressed a kiss into his hair and clutched him tighter, protectively.  
  
“It won’t always be-” Darren tried, but couldn’t finish, fighting down the rising despair in his throat.  
  
“It will,” Chris uttered in resignation. “At least, in the spotlight.”  
  
Darren screwed his eyes shut tight, miserable and aching for the pieces in his arms he couldn’t put back together. For everything he knew he couldn’t have.  
  
He breathed a ragged, wet breath, and Chris turned his head, eyes glistening in the dim orange light as they pressed their foreheads together and breathed each other’s air. Darren could taste salt on his lips, and he shivered as Chris let out a wrecked sob.  
  
“Shh, shh,” Darren said, pressing tiny kisses to his mouth desperately. “I need- I need you to know,” he said into Chris’s mouth, his voice gravelly and cracking. “I’ll wait for you.”  
  
Chris closed his eyes, tears spilling down his face as he kissed him back pleadingly, begging for everything he’d said to be true.  
  
They held each other in silence as the music trickled back, heads resting together, eyes closed to the wave and the freedom of the song, pouring down like a gift in the glittering, fading sea of light across the Meadow.


	2. Glory Days

Long after the music stopped, and silence descended over the Meadow, the lingering swaps of body heat and blankets kept Chris sleep-drugged and drifting on the haze. He could feel Lea pressed against his back, feel an arm draped across his waist, and further down something that felt a lot like Cory was snoring into his left calf.  
  
Fingers of grey light carved lines in the air above him, falling in splashes of brighter colour across his companions as they slept on. He blinked slowly, his eyes unmoving as he watched the man beside him.  
  
Darren’s stillness in sleep betrayed everything about him. The calm rise and fall of his chest, the perfect and silent peace of his features seemed almost alien in contrast to the usual manic, giddy demeanor that overtook him in the waking hours. Chris watched the lines of his eyelashes, the curve of his lips where they fell slightly apart, and the tousled mess of his hair spilling down in wayward curls across his makeshift pillow.   
  
With one long, slender finger Chris traced a feather-soft line down the bridge of his nose, and watched Darren’s breath fall away from him in a contented sigh.  
  
Chris closed his eyes, willing away the sting behind them as the moisture gathered in his lashes. He knew what he had to do, even as the words threatened to choke him.  
  
“Hey,” Darren whispered, barely audible, and smiled sleepily at him with heavy-lidded eyes.   
  
Chris swallowed. “Hey,” he said back just as gently.  
  
There was a long silence while they stared at each other in the pale haze of the morning, eyes locked and lingering.  
  
“I don’t want you to wait,” Chris said.  
  
Darren blinked, but his smile didn’t fade as his brow furrowed in confusion. “What?”  
  
Chris drew a long breath, struggling to hold on to what little will he had left. “I don’t want you to wait.”  
  
Darren’s grin faded.  
  
“Find a girl,” Chris said, his mouth curling into a sad smile. “Fall in love. Get married. Be…” Chris drew a shuddering breath, and laughed a little. “Be _incredible_. Don’t wait.”  
  
“What are you saying?” Darren whispered carefully.  
  
“I just,” Chris managed, unable to look up. “I can’t love you. I _can’t_.”  
  
Darren’s mouth fell open, his eyes glassy and lost. “I… I don’t understand. I… mean, I…”  
  
“I’m sorry,” Chris whispered, his eyes fluttering closed as he heard muffled noises and shuffling from the other side of the tent. Mark and Heather were awake, and slowly clambering to their feet.  
  
Darren shivered, and his breath stuttered and shook as he closed his eyes, and hid his face.  
  
Chris reached an arm across, clutching Darren’s hand desperately in his as they both screwed their eyes shut tight against that rising, hollow feeling inside. Darren squeezed back pleadingly, and Chris brushed a thumb over the back of his hand in comfort as more and more of their cast mates awoke and murmured in the morning light.  
  
 _Please, god, please,_ Chris thought. _Please understand. I can’t give you what you deserve._  
  
But I can love you just enough to let you go.  


* * *

  
  
  
He wandered the press line of the event with a smile, but it was painted on with years of practice. The camera flashes were blinding, but the interviewers had been cordial enough. He was still shell-shocked and numb somewhere inside, struggling in disbelief that he was here and on the list, no less. It was dizzying, humbling, and altogether strange – but in the very least, a distraction from everything else.  
  
He smiled at the next interviewer, a young man with dark hair who grinned widely at him. _Like a shark might,_ he thought. Something inside him sparked in warning.  
  
It wasn’t long before the interviewer raised the subject of Darren, and what to ask him. Chris rolled his eyes up, searching for the right words. He cracked a joke, the first one that came to him, and immediately bit his tongue through the side of his teeth, hoping he hadn’t been too forward on camera. _Starkids_ , his brain supplied at last. _The show._  
  
“Ask him about his new show!” he managed to get out, and clarified another question. Chicago. Broadway-type show.  
  
“Oh, so he is gay in real life!” the interviewer probed.  
  
Chris felt it like a flash in his chest, and for a split second he froze before the laughter bubbled up. It was the best laugh he could manage, as genuine as any laugh given to someone for the sake of courtesy. In that fraction of a second, he saw her face – the girl he’d met. She was beautiful, and bright, and she seemed to fit right next to Darren like a puzzle piece snapping into place. And then the flash was gone.   
  
“No,” he said, his eyes falling, searching for somewhere to look that wasn’t this man’s face. “No, I don’t think so, I’ve – I’ve met his girlfriend.”  
  
“Really?” he asked in disbelief.  
  
“Yeah,” Chris said softly, still smiling.  
  
Still smiling.

* * *

  
  
Chris lost count of the number of times he held Darren over the years. How many times he still tasted him on his lips after he went home from work. He had to lose count, had to stop keeping track to keep himself from clawing his way out of his own skin.  
  
 _This is bigger,_ he told himself. _The changes we make, our marks on the world. This is so much more important than the wants of one man._  
  
Chris taught himself how to forget about fairy lights and picnic blankets.

* * *

  
  
He walked the carpet of another grand event, tailored-suit and tie lighting up in silky sheen under every flicker and flash from the rows of cameras and the gleaming bulbs above them.  
  
There was a low rumble in the air, the sky threatening to open up. Nervous ushers and security guards hurried everyone on their way as the interviews closed up, and people gathered to enter the building.  
  
He smiled kindly for the cameras. The years had served him well – any nerves he once felt walking event carpets now a fond and distant memory, gone with Glee and the whirlwind post-teenage haze of his youth. Still, at twenty-four, he’d found a new world on Broadway.  
  
As he climbed the stairs and walked through the grand doorways of the theatre, he smiled gently at passing celebrities in shimmering gowns and suits alike, sliding on through the throngs of the all-infamous crowd and looking for a familiar face.  
  
So many he knew, but all the same so few that he could bring himself to disturb. Most of them were wrapped up in conversations and compliments on gowns or hair or performance.   
  
Like a curtain drawing back, the crowd fell apart and he was struck breathless in a moment as the thunder boomed above. He blinked, and wondered if he’d imagined what he saw.   
  
With a tilt of his head, he sidestepped a waiter and watched the eddy of the crowd fall away again.   
  
There he was, like an old familiar photograph. Chris realised he’d stopped breathing, and closed his eyes, trying to keep from gasping in the missing air. He forced his eyes open again, unable to stop from searching rapidly for that one point in the sea of colour and sound.  
  
It wasn’t a dream, he was still there – still the same Darren he’d always known. There was a broad smile on his face as he chattered enthusiastically with a man Chris didn’t recognise. But Chris knew that smile, that excited, giddy grin that Darren wore when he was talking about the things he loved.  
  
Chris felt the heat blush his face, and the smile that pulled at his lips before he could stop it. He surged forward, unsure of why or what was moving his body, because he certainly wasn’t in control right now.  
  
And then he stopped, frozen on the spot, body wound tight as if from impact.   
  
She was stunning.   
  
Chris hadn’t seen her before, but she was tall, and elegant, and the blue of her dress glittered like diamonds on water. She smiled sweetly, and looped her arm around Darren’s, listening intently to whatever it was he was saying.  
  
Chris felt the air fall away, the hum in his ears like someone had shut off all sound. The deafening nothing that filled him like a wave from his toes to his throat.  
  
Darren smiled at her warmly between words, his hands always moving in concert with his thoughts and ideas as he spoke.  
  
The moment hung in the air, and lingered for longer than Chris could keep time. He lowered his eyes, forcing himself to breathe, to find that old and practiced smile he had learned so well in his younger days. He turned away, and wandered into the wash of the crowd, gathering himself back together as minutes ticked by like seconds.  
  
“Chris?”  
  
His heart fell, and stumbled over itself, trying to figure out how to get back. He swallowed hard, and turned around with an attempt at surprise. “Darren?”  
  
He’d barely managed to get the word out before there was a body wrapped around him, arms squeezing tight, face buried in his shoulder. He gently pressed a hand to Darren’s back, but that was all he could give right now. That was all he could find the strength for.  
  
Darren stepped back, but kept both hands on Chris’s shoulders as he searched his face. “Oh my god, it’s so good to see you, it’s been-”  
  
“A long time,” Chris finished. “Yeah, you – you look good.”  
  
“God, no,” Darren waved a hand dismissively. “I’m a mess, but you look amazing. I saw your show!”  
  
Chris’s eyebrows shot up. “Really?”  
  
“I did,” Darren grinned, that giant Cheshire-cat grin of his that lit up his eyes like starlight. “You were unbelievable, man, you were,” he breathed out for emphasis, seeming genuinely awed. “ _Transcendent._ ”  
  
A gentle, practiced smile touched Chris’s lips. “Thank you.”  
  
Darren’s eyes narrowed, and he tilted his head a little as he watched Chris’s face. “I wanted to see you, I tried to – get in touch.”  
  
“I’ve been busy,” Chris nodded politely. “So have you, from what I’ve seen. The new show is going well.”  
  
With a distant look and a resigned nod, Darren agreed. All at once he realised this was different. This was wrong. Chris’s voice was even and strange, and his smile never touched his eyes.  
  
Chris shifted at the pause, and bowed back. “I should go, but it was good to see you.”  
  
“Chris, wait,” Darren reached out a hand, but Chris simply smiled that same empty smile and slipped back into the crowd, weaving gracefully between groups of gathered stars and heading for the side door.   
  
Outside, the skies had split apart and bled torrents on the earth. Thunder boomed and shook the air in prickling vibrations as Chris bolted for the car he’d dialed for on his exit from the theatre.  
  
He slid quickly into the back seat, and dusted the beads of water from his hair. Chilled from the rain, he pulled his jacket in tighter and pressed his cold face down into his shirt for warmth. Somehow, after years and cities apart, he smelled like Darren all over again.  
  
He let out a shuddering, wrecked breath as the car pulled away from the curb.


	3. Standing Still

The hotel was just two blocks away, but Chris was grateful for the shelter of the courtesy car as they pulled through a sheet of rain tumbling from the awnings above. The belting chorus of white noise faded under the cover of the hotel’s entryway, and Chris thanked the driver kindly as he slid out of the car.  
  
His room was just as pristine, just as perfect as he’d left it – only his folded suitcase in the corner gave away his presence. Four years and that lingering smell, that ghost of designer perfume and fresh linen still didn’t conjure any feeling but the knowledge that he wasn’t home.  
  
The rain drew long, uneven lines down the high windows looking out across the streets below. He watched them racing each other in the dim light, like thin fingers sliding down the glass, unable to hang on.  
  
Absently, he rolled his still-damp coat from his shoulders and dropped it on the suitcase, prying the knot of his tie away from his neck with long and practiced fingers. He discarded it just as carelessly, perching on the bed’s edge and pushing both sleeves up to his elbows. For a long time he simply sat, leaning on his knees, face buried in his hands as the night’s events flashed behind his eyelids.   
  
Thunder rumbled across the sky in the distance, and the quiet static of the rain hammered on.   
  
Three wet slaps on the door punctuated his thoughts, and his head jerked up in surprise. He blinked, dumbfounded, and stared at the door for a moment before his body responded and he was on his feet.   
  
Chris pulled the door open smoothly, ready to politely decline whatever hotel service was being offered this time of night – but stopped still. His mouth fell open, and his eyes widened in shock as his lungs forgot the value of air.  
  
Darren stood dripping in front of him, saturated from head to toe, with curls plastered down on his face and his chest heaving. He shuddered visibly, breathlessly in the hallway, but his eyes never shifted their gaze from where Chris was frozen.  
  
“Can I come in?”  
  
Chris felt the breath reach his lungs at last. He nodded mutely, stepping back as Darren passed, leaving a wet trail across the hotel carpet behind him.  
  
“H-how,” Chris tried, closing the door. “How did you – find me?”  
  
Darren smiled weakly, still regaining his breath, and wiped at his face. “You still use the same name.”  
  
Chris folded his arms across his chest protectively, instinctively.  
  
“Peter Parker,” Darren clarified with a slight bow. “You always check in under Peter Parker.”  
  
Chris nodded, just barely, his eyes unfocused and mind spinning.   
  
Darren watched him for a moment, dropping his head languidly to the side. The motion, that tiny gesture, was too familiar and all at once Chris felt his chest clench tight.   
  
“You’re dripping,” Chris said absently, striding towards the bathroom to find a towel.  
  
“I’m fine,” Darren waved a dismissive hand, but accepted the towel nonetheless, patting at his face. “I just – wh-” he stumbled around the words, his brow knotting in frustration. “What was that? Back there?”  
  
Chris drew a shaky breath, folding his arms tight again. “What do you mean?”  
  
Darren gave a resigned sigh, dropping the wet towel onto a chair. “I mean,” he began roughly, “the way you talked to me back there. Like we were exchanging fucking _pleasantries_. Like you didn’t even know me. What _was_ that, Chris?”  
  
Swallowing hard, Chris shut his eyes, jaw clenching against his will as the swell of nervous discomfort caught in his throat. “It’s been a long time,” Chris said simply, opening his eyes and focusing on the window. “I was surprised, that’s all.”  
  
“Bullshit,” Darren said sharply. “You looked at me like I was a _stranger_ , man. Do you have any idea what that felt like?”  
  
Chris shuddered, and gave a curt nod. “I do, actually.”  
  
Darren’s brow knotted in confusion.   
  
Silence dragged on for a moment, and Chris lowered his gaze, every fibre of his being screaming not to look at the man in front of him.  
  
He could hear Darren’s breathing, sharp and shaky in contrast with the tattoo of the rain and the occasional barrel of thunder. The windows shook, and Darren huffed out an exasperated breath.  
  
“What happened to us?”  
  
After a pause, Chris smiled sadly. “We grew up.”  
  
Darren shook his head, laughing. It was an empty, broken laugh. Chris felt his spine prickle at the sound.  
  
“Fuck that,” Darren said harshly.  
  
Chris lifted his eyes to the ceiling, pressing his lips together in a thin line. “I can’t change it,” he uttered in resignation. “Things ended, like everything does. We carried on.”  
  
“I tried to find you,” Darren countered. “After the show, after – after all of it died down, the media, everything. I tried to find you,” he trailed off into a quiet, ragged sound. “But you were already gone.”  
  
Chris nodded, searching the windows for something to focus on. “I had offers. It made sense to go. And it’s not like you weren’t busy enough yourself,”  
  
“ _Fuck_ , Chris,” Darren pushed both hands through his sodden hair, drips rolling down his arms. “I keep myself busy – I keep booking things, keep writing and performing and keep moving because I _have to_. Like I’ve always done. I can’t stand still, I _can’t_ , because if I stand still for too long I remember,” he choked out. “I remember what you _taste_ like. What you feel like.”  
  
Before he could stop himself, Chris looked at him, breathless and shell-shocked.  
  
“I can’t. stand. still.” Darren finished in punctuated breaths.   
  
“Your…” Chris tried to form the words. “Your girlfriend, the girl in the blue dress.”  
  
“ _Amy_?” Darren stared at him, wide-eyed and horrified. “Oh, god, no, she’s my friend. She’s one of my best friends, actually. We’re not…”  
  
Chris felt the blood drain from his face. In a heartbeat, he remembered the last girl he’d seen on Darren’s arm. “Whatever happened to…”   
  
“You never asked me,” Darren almost growled. “Not once.”  
  
Chris’s eyes widened. “What?”  
  
“I introduced her by her name. I never said girlfriend. You never asked.”  
  
Like a gunshot, the thunder punctuated their conversation, and Chris jerked involuntarily at the sound. Every hair on his body stood on end as the walls he’d built for the last four years came crashing down around him.  
  
“Oh,” Chris breathed. He could see it again, playing over in his mind. Darren dripping in the hallway, short of breath and shaking. “You ran from the theatre. Two blocks, you just-”  
  
“You have been fucking _haunting me_ since the day I met you,” Darren raised a hand, fingers splayed and shaking as he moved closer. “Yes, I ran. Two blocks and four years. I ran through ghosts to get here. Cause even if I never see you again, I _need_ you to understand.”  
  
Chris’s body shook, tremors wracking his frame as he watched Darren’s eyes burn under flashes of lightning.   
  
“Oh god,” Chris whispered, almost silently. “You waited.”  
  
Darren moved in slowly, and met his eyes. Shirt plastered to his skin, his chest rose and fell again in one long, haggard breath as his lips trembled and his gaze fell to Chris’s mouth. “ _I waited_.”  
  
Like lightning a tear shot down Chris’s cheek, and chilled under Darren’s breath as he lingered, still watching. Chris felt the ghost of a thumb trace his lips from one side to the other as Darren leaned in and pressed his mouth lightly to Chris’s jaw, capturing the bead of moisture and closing his eyes.  
  
Chris let out a tiny, broken sound as the sensation invaded his senses. Blood pounded in his ears, and he struggled for control as their lips brushed softly, still trembling. In an eternity of silence and the percussion of rainwater, they waited, breathing each other’s air and remembering the taste.  
  
He didn’t know when his hand had snaked up, and found the familiar angles of Darren’s jaw, but he knew the feel of the mouth under his like the words of his favourite song, pushing and begging and giving everything back. With every ounce of his strength, he pulled their bodies together, reveling in the cool press of the wet fabric against his chest, the heat underneath, and the bruising, clutching need of the hands on his back.  
  
They staggered together, mouths clashing, trying to find balance as they held on to each other in every way they could. Chris wound his hands through Darren’s hair frantically, twisting damp curls between his fingers as they shifted bodily against each surface they met, sliding and pressing into each other in needy, messy movements.   
  
His fingers found Darren’s tie, and worked the knot blindly before he felt Darren’s hands over his, pulling them away. He blinked, stunned, as Darren broke the kiss. Chris stared as he worked off the tie, and shrugged out of the sodden jacket, undoing each button of his shirt one by one and peeling it away from his glistening, rain-painted skin. Darren undressed with slow, deliberate movements, never taking his eyes off Chris.   
  
Chris only realised after a violent warning thrill shot through his chest that he’d been holding his breath.  
  
Down to his boxers, Darren moved forward again, eyes still locked and darkly watching Chris’s face as his fingers found the buttons on his shirt. Chris tried to keep his breaths even as Darren’s hands pressed against him, button after button, until the shirt was open and falling off his shoulders.   
  
Wordlessly, Darren’s hands mapped his body, slow and light at first, then harder as he pushed against the skin, tracing bones and finding every angle of Chris’s body. He dropped his mouth to Chris’s collarbone, grazing teeth across it and sucking gently as Chris trembled under his mouth. He pulled away gently, his hands pressing in again, drawing lines on Chris’s skin.  
  
Chris watched him still, breath catching under the press of Darren’s hands. He memorized the flickering burn in Darren’s eyes as broad hands jerked at his belt and continued to undress him freely. Before Darren could take down his boxers, Chris slipped back, finding his suitcase and gathering what they needed before his mind was too far gone to process the simple things.  
  
A smile curled the side of Darren’s mouth, and he plucked at the sides of his own shorts, pulling them down and sitting back on the bed as he kicked them off from around his ankles. Chris moved in slowly, wordlessly, sliding his own boxers off and climbing onto Darren’s lap in slow and teasing movements, savoring the look on his face.  
  
Chris tore the packet quickly, and slid the condom down onto Darren in one long and practiced stroke.   
  
“Mmmh,” Darren’s eyes slammed shut at the sensation, his brain losing all control over language as Chris’s hand continued to stroke him smoothly, and Chris watched with a slight smirk as Darren’s mouth trembled and he fought for control.  
  
A firm, rough hand pressed into Chris’s hip, and held him steady as Darren shifted on the bed. Chris’s hand stopped still when he head the cap on the bottle snap shut. Darren shifted again, pulling Chris in as he leaned forward and captured a nipple between his lips, brushing his tongue over it wetly. “Oh,” Chris’s eyes fluttered shut, and Darren smiled around the skin he’d sucked into his mouth.  
  
Chris shivered, now achingly aware of the pooling heat in his hips and how hard his body was straining at the wash of sensation. He’d forgotten this, the rush of want and need, how it felt to be touched this way. Like he belonged here, under Darren’s hands. Like his body was built for this.   
  
He could feel the cool trace of Darren’s fingers, the wet press of them against sensitive skin, but the grip of Darren’s other hand on his hip and the mouth tracing circles and sucking patterns into his chest pulled his mind away from the new sensation. Darren pushed inside, one finger curled and gentle, and worked slowly until Chris’s ragged breaths and tiny rasps turned into a keening, needy moan.   
  
Grazing his teeth over a nipple and receiving a perfect, long shudder of pleasure in response, Darren rocked back slightly, watching Chris’s face as he worked a third finger inside. He could feel his own body thrumming, needing release, and the look on Chris’s face only tightened the straining ache in his hips. “God, you’re beautiful,” he uttered under his breath, staring at him in wonder.  
  
With his head tipped back, eyes closed and mouth open, Chris felt every inch of Darren around him, beneath him and inside him. It took him a moment to realise that his body was miles ahead of him, already pushing down on Darren’s fingers over and over as his hips rolled.   
  
“Oh, my god, _Chris_ ,” Darren managed when he realised, shifting Chris’s hips forward easily with his free hand and slowly pulling his fingers away. Chris rolled his head up in surprise at the loss, and found Darren staring at him through darkened eyes.  
  
He watched with a fixed and feverish gaze as Darren guided their bodies together at the right angle, locking their eyes as he finally pushed inside.  
  
Chris threw his head back, stunned into stillness by the sharp twinge, the familiar burn and the thrum of pleasure shooting through his body. His hips stuttered, body shaking against his will as Darren pressed deeper inside, groaning brokenly. “Oh,” he huffed out violently, his voice gravelling, “ _fuck_ , oh god, Chris.”  
  
Chris shuddered and gasped helplessly as the feeling flooded his senses, the fullness, the completeness of Darren inside him. His hips jerked desperately, and he felt his entire body spasm as Darren thrust up into the motion, meeting that place inside that sent shocks of slick, perfect pleasure to every inch of his body. Chris moaned loudly, fisting handfuls of the quilt behind him as he ground down into the feeling.  
  
They rocked together, over and over, frantically clinging to anything around them for leverage as their bodies collided. Chris felt a sharp, guttural noise punch out of him as Darren’s fingers curled around his hips possessively.  
  
Darren’s thrusts grew slower, and harder, and Chris locked his arms for purchase as he rode the body beneath him. Heat spread like wildfire inside, and he felt the warning rise of it, the ache and press in his hips that meant it would be over far too soon.  
  
Darren’s arm reached out for him, cupping his neck and pulling him to a violent, desperate kiss, wet and open and hungry. Their angle shifted, and he felt Darren’s hands clutch his body all over. Darren slammed into him one last time, groaning out a low, broken pattern of noises as he came.  
  
Chris gasped as Darren’s hand wound around him lazily, stroking messy and hard. Darren watched him intently – pupils blown and breath still shaking.   
  
He felt his body coil tight, and thrust into Darren’s hand twice more before the deafening wave overtook him, and the earth fell away.  
  
In soundless, breathless harmony they crumpled against each other, sliding down onto the bed on their sides as they both tried to remember how to breathe. Chris let out a tiny, guttural sound as Darren slipped out of him, and felt his body clench tight against the violent wash of emptiness that caught him.  
  
But Darren didn’t move away, just lingered in the press of their bodies, and the heady, warm haze of what they’d just done. Chris pressed his mouth to Darren’s shoulder, tasting sweat and salt and rainwater as he swept his tongue across the skin. He sucked gently at Darren’s collarbone, dragging his lips across the line there and pressing teeth to flesh possessively. Darren made a soft, desperate sound beside him, and raked calloused fingers down his back, squeezing and clinging wherever they could on the way.  
  
Somehow, even now, Chris needed to taste him. Needed to feel him, and hold him to believe they were truly lying there together, sweat-damp and smelling like each other. Like they always should have been.  
  
They lay in the quiet for hours, learning each other’s bodies with their mouths and hands, discovering each other’s noises and making up for too many missed years. Neither of them noticed when the rain stopped.   
  
Darren settled into the blanket at last, eyes lazily trailing up and down Chris’s body with delight as Chris watched him in turn, propped up on his elbow.   
  
“We could stay like this forever, you know,” Chris said with a sleepy smile as Darren’s fingers traced his side.  
  
Darren grinned, watching the slow line he was drawing from Chris’s hip up to his ribs. “We will.”  
  
Chris narrowed his eyes, but his smile didn’t fade. “What are you thinking?”  
  
In the dim light, Darren’s eyes glistened. “It feels,” he breathed out slowly, his eyes fluttering closed. “It feels so good.”  
  
“What does?” Chris asked gently, stunned at the moisture gathering in his lashes.  
  
Darren’s eyes drifted open, and he smiled.  
  
“Standing still.”


	4. Reprieve (Coda)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Written for those who requested closure.

When their story ended, Darren and Chris were standing still and holding tight and _breathing_  each other like they were always meant to. When the stagelights went down and Glee was in the distance, the rumble-haze of the media circus slid their spotlights elsewhere, the next big thing, the new young star.

 _Reprieve_.

Chris found his heart on Broadway, built foundations in a whole new world of dazzling colour that welcomed him with broad and loving arms. Darren’s whirlwind slowed at last, and he slept for the heavier part of a week in Chris’s bed, burned out from years of never stopping for a moment. He woke again in slow-motion, with a kind of dizzy grace and bright, new eyes. The world slowed down, at last.

They held each other, most nights, limbs tangled, longing, clinging under stars and on the ruins of the parapets they’d built around themselves so long. 

They were free.


End file.
